Wilhelm was surprised himself at the impression the man's
information had made upon him. Dismay, anger, and shame struggled
for the mastery in his breast. What a suffocating air he breathed in
this house! How vile and underhand and insincere were the people by
whom he was surrounded! But was this true that Auguste told him? Did
he not lie and slander like the rest? Was he not doing the servant
far too great an honor by letting his mind dwell on the low gossip
of the servants' hall? He felt a kind of dim revolt against his own
excitement which he felt to be unworthy of him, and, under other
circumstances, he really would have been too proud to allow such
tale-bearing to exert the slightest influence upon his thoughts or
actions. But, in his present state of mind, Auguste's words sounded
to him like a brutal translation of his own thoughts, condemning him
for his cowardice in submitting to his humiliating position, and he
recognized more clearly than ever that he must fight his way out of
this degradation.
It was not easy to carry out this resolve. When Pilar came to his
room and took his arm to lead him down to lunch, she was as
bewitching and fond as ever. At table she chattered brightly about
an exhibition of pictures in the Cercle des Mirlitons, which she
wanted to see with him that afternoon, asked him about the work he
had done to-day, and if he had given a thought to her now and then
between his crusty old books, and altogether gave evidence of such
childlike and implicit confidence in his love and faith, such utter
absence of suspicion as to possible rocks ahead, that that which he
had it in his mind to do seemed almost like a stab in the dark.
Pages:
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511